


The Hunter Becomes The Hunted

by raincoats_and_murder



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-10
Updated: 2018-06-10
Packaged: 2019-05-20 12:21:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,484
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14894550
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/raincoats_and_murder/pseuds/raincoats_and_murder
Summary: A sherlock/fem!reader ficSherlock is used to knowing everything about everyone he meets, but he knows nothing about Y/NHe's used to chasing people, but how will it feel when he's the one being chased?





	1. The First Meeting

**Author's Note:**

> Well, I hope you enjoy this

I ring the doorbell and wait, shivering slightly in the cold. Its lucky I brought my umbrella, otherwise I would be absolutely soaked. Once again i curse the British weather and tug my sleeves over my knuckles. A newspaper cutting is crumpled in my hand, and I straighten it out, just to be certain; it was the address of the famous detective, Sherlock Holmes. I wonder if he mourns the loss of his privacy, or relishes his fame. I certainly would hate people being able to knock on my door whenever they liked.  
Boredom overtakes me and I play the game again. It was a game my brother and I made up for long car rides and rainy days: you try and describe yourself and your surroundings as if you're in a novel.  
"Rain hits her umbrella and seeps into her clothing, creating pathways of cold along her delicate skin. Wind caresses her exposed flesh, like the gentle touch of a lover. Raindrops fall off her eyelashes as she surveys her surroundings. A woman with a pram takes cover under the willow trees, occasionally looking at her phone distractedly, whilst talking to the child stood holding her hand. A man in a business suit briskly walks by, all the while in a heated debate with someone on the phone."  
It's not going to win me and literary awards, but it passes the time and reminds me of home, which is bittersweet in a sense. I look at my watch; its been 10 minutes, should I try again tomorrow? I know I have the right address so maybe they've gone out. What does a consulting detective even do for fun?  
Just as I'm about to turn and leave, the door opens. The man standing there is taller than me, made taller by the doorstep, but he seems friendly and almost brotherly. His jumper has a little stain on the sleeve and seems a little too big for him. He leans against the door and look out at me, squinting slightly in the downpour.  
"Rather wet out, isn't it? Sorry to keep you waiting," He smiles at me, his eyes crinkling, whilst holding the door open. I smile back and walk into the well lit hallway.The decoration is rather old fashioned but its seems well kept, and reminds me of my aunt's house.  
"No worries. I'm Y/N, nice to meet you." I extend my hand to him after I'm sure he's locked the door.  
"John Watson, the pleasure is mine." He shakes my hand briefly then motions towards the stairs.  
"I presume you're here to see Sherlock. Ladies first, we're just upstairs." I walk up the wooden staircase, my umbrella in one hand and trailing the other along the banister. The walls have many paintings, but no photographs, which I suppose is normal for a shared flat.  
On the first floor there's two doors, one just to my right and the other a little further along on the left. The furthest one is presumably a spare room, judging by the lock on the door.  
I knock on the second door, out of habit, and push it open. It reveals a rather spacious living room, with two armchairs and a small sofa. John and I walk inside and he motions for me to sit on the sofa, whilst he goes off to "retrieve" Sherlock, as he put it.  
As I sit down I look around. There's a bookcase lining one wall, stuffed with books and various other knickknacks. The small coffee table is full of papers and what looks like a vial of blood. I think there's a human skull on the mantelpiece; maybe they perform Shakespeare for fun?  
I sit waiting for a few minutes, wondering where John has got to. Opening my bag, i retrieve my pen, and check the time once again. A couple of minutes pass before John walks back into the room with the one and only Sherlock Holmes, who sneers slightly when he spots me.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed this :)  
> I'm heavily editing what I've written so far to make it a bit longer and slower, after my fear of it being rushed were confirmed by my dear friend
> 
> But anyways, please comment about what you think and keep reading I guess :))


	2. The Prey

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oohhh we find out what Sherlock deduces and what Y/N does after it

He looks me up and down for a second, then starts talking  
"Hmm. This is too easy. Young, in your twenties, just moved to London after leaving your parents. You work as an assistant teacher at a university, but think that's a waste of your abilities. Your parents live separately, and you're an only child, doted on by them both. Smart attire shows you dressed up to come here because its a Sunday and no one would wear that on a Sunday. Judging by the tapping that you've been doing on your phone case, you are nervous to be here, also evident by the slightly chewed up pen. Your pupils are dilated showing that you're attracted to someone here, and you came to get my help about a missing friend." He smirks, evidently very sure of himself. Well this is going to be fun, you think.  
"So sorry sweetheart, but you're wrong on all counts apart from one." I smirk at his confusion, and at John's clear amusement. Surely he's wrong sometimes? I suppose he can't be, with his job and all, but he should get things wrong normally, so it shouldn't be this big of a deal. Anyways, I've finished what I came here to check, so I suppose I should leave. I gather my belongings, making sure to get my umbrella, and walk towards the door, ready to leave. I turn the handle and start to open it when I hear a voice behind me.  
"Wait, at least tell me what I got right," Sherlock demands. Placing my things on the floor, I walk upto him slowly and stand in front of him, looking right into his bloodshot eyes. He blinks, surprised by the close proximity, but doesn't move. I move my head beside his and place my mouth next to his ear, making it seems as if I'm going to tell him a secret.  
"You're right." I murmer. "The person I'm attracted to is standing in front of me, and I would very much like to kiss him. I suppose that's rather forward of me, but you miss all the chances you don't take. " I hear him take a breath, then he starts to whisper.  
"Then why don't you? No one's stopping you. " I move my face in front of his, our lips mere centimetres apart. I see his eyes travel down my face, then focus back on my eyes. His pupils are dilated, only slightly, but that's enough. At least I know he's interested.  
This time I place my mouth near his right ear, away from John's view. I see Sherlock furrow his brows slightly, clearly confused about my change in position, but its good for him to be kept in the earl sometimes.  
"Well darling, the chase, in my opinion, is always the best part. Don't you agree?" I ghost my lips over his neck, just under his ear. I feel him tense slightly and his pulse quickens infinitesimally, as I hear a sharp intake of breath. Stepping backwards, be still incredibly close to him, I take his arm and lift up his sleeve to reveal pale skin.  
I write my phone number along his arm in black ink, whilst he just stands and blinks, clearly overthinking my actions and words.  
I walk to John and hand him a piece of paper with my number and name on it, just in case Sherlock doesn't call.  
"Please can you update me on what he does, and try to make sure he doesn't google me because that won't work at all." He nods, slightly shocked at my forwardness. John then peers over my shoulder at Sherlock, who is presumably still standing there, and looks as if he's about to laugh.  
As I open the door, an older lady walks in, the landlady if I'm correct, holding a tray laden with tea and biscuits.  
"Let me help you ma'am," I say taking the tray off her. Years of etiquette lessons have made it automatic to offer my help. I suppose that's a good thing when you're trying to create a good impression on someone  
"Where shall I put it?" She motions towards the small coffee table between the two armchairs, looking as if she doesn't know what to do. I place it down, careful of the many items already on there. Making sure to gather all of my things, I then walk out the door, saying goodbye to John, reminding him to text me on any updates.  
As the door shuts behind me I hear the landlady say "I hope that polite girl comes back, it'll be nice to have some manners around the house for once." It's expected praise by now, but it still makes me smile to hear it. Reaching behind me, I shut the front door and open my umbrella, ready brave the cold rain on my walk back.

**Author's Note:**

> Please leave comments about what you think  
> And idk any improvements you think it needs


End file.
